


The Ladybird and Her Prince

by LalaRose27



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen Live, Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, Creepy Petyr Baelish, F/M, House Targaryen, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Rhaegar Lives, anti targ, house stark is dead, targaryen bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2020-06-09 21:05:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19484017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LalaRose27/pseuds/LalaRose27
Summary: Sansa's friend, Arya, was the first to call her ‘ladybird’ because she was kinder, prettier, and more graceful than the other little birds. The other birds mocked her with the nickname because her head was also full of songs and dreams to big for a bastard street rat.Prince Jon sits above the kingdom in his high tower, aware of the whispers the people below him say when he is not present. He both curses and thanks his birth for he hates his father's choices and loves his family with his whole heart. However he may have room in his heart for a little bird sent to spy on him.





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I read you for some kind of poem](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12143391) by [it_was_so_human](https://archiveofourown.org/users/it_was_so_human/pseuds/it_was_so_human). 
  * Inspired by [Not Some Willowy Creature Who Sits Up in a Tower](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19187575) by [FromTheBoundlessSea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromTheBoundlessSea/pseuds/FromTheBoundlessSea). 



> This is an AU where Sansa has been raised by Varys in KL and is one of his little birds along with Arya. House Targaryen are the rulers of the land, the whitewalkers are not an issue (as of right now), and some of the houses that rebelled (Stark, Tully, Baratheon, etc.) are gone though House Arryn and Reed remain. Lyanna and Elia are not alive but all of their kids are. 
> 
> Ages-
> 
> Sansa- 11  
> Jon- 12 (13 in a few months)  
> Aegon- 13  
> Rhaenys- 15  
> Dany- 12 (a few months younger than Jon)  
> Arya- 10
> 
> I hope I did both of the fics this was based on justice.  
> That should be enough info for right now.
> 
> Please enjoy!

When Lord Varys found her, he had named her after a lady of House Tarly. A clever and well-read noblewoman, Varys had told her. The perfect name for one of his little birds. She was grateful to him, picking her off the street and teaching her things most urchins would have never learned. Instead of resorting to pickpocketing like other orphans, she was taught to climb walls and sneak down chimneys. In addition, she devoted much of her time to learning everything she could get her hands on so Lord Varys would never have a reason to toss her back into the streets. Lord Varys was delighted that she was able to take to reading like a fish to water. No one could ever suspect a street rat such as herself to be able to read letters and even if they did suspect her, she was smart enough to not be seen reading scrolls away and quiet enough to leave before anyone suspected there was another person in the room. What pleased Lord Varys the most was her ability to understand the house politics better than the other urchins simply by listening to the people around her. Once he picked up on this, he spent more time with her than other birds. 

“Come here my little Ladybird,” Varys calls her one day after Prince Aegon’s thirteenth name day. Arya, her closest friend, was the first to call her ‘ladybird’ because she was kinder, prettier, and more graceful than the other little birds. The other birds mocked her with the nickname because her head was also full of songs and dreams to big for a street rat. When Varys said the nickname it felt almost like affection. He was the closest man the small street rat had to a father.

She takes a step forward, nervously playing with her red braid. She wishes she had a mirror and the time to dress her hair like the ladies she saw at court. The architectural braids worn by the ladies of the western houses, the loose yet elegant curls of southern ladies, and the tidy and practical braid of women above the Neck were styles she dreamed of crafting her hair into. She had once saved money to buy a mirror but she had no home so she had no place to keep such a precious thing away from thieving hands. “Yes Lord Varys?”

“I need you to spy on Prince Jon. Hide in his chambers and tell me what you discover.” He told her. Lord Varys could see the wheels turning in the young girl’s head. He gave her a small smile, knowing she knew the Prince’s infamous background. There wasn’t a babe born in Westeros who hadn’t heard of the young dragonwolf’s story. The war, the carnage, and the massacres still haunted the adults involved in the bloodshed.

Many great and ancient Houses fell by King Rhaegar’s hand King Rhaegar was criticized by his subjects but it is the only thing his subjects did. The common folk were too tired for another rebellion and the nobles feared becoming the subject of his wrath. The kingdom of Westeros chose to keep their comments contained to themselves. Those who supported the King’s actions, praised him for changing society in such a short span of time. It was a positive change in their eyes, for the Houses he erased had grown too arrogant with their power. The kingdom was divided on these opinions but they made sure to only let the positive words reach the King’s ears. As a result the kingdom had a peaceful twelve years.

The infamous circumstances surrounding the Prince’s birth made him an unpopular figure at first. Much like his half-sister, Jon did not inherit the traditional Targaryen features. He had entirely Northern features which was the topic of gossip around the city. However, many are quick to shut down the thought of them bleed for a bastard. In fact, many are glad to see a true Westerosi part of the royal family and as he grows older, the common folk have grown to tolerate the young prince. He is quiet and brooding, much like his deceased Northern family, and shows no sign of the same madness as his father nor any of his mother’s wolfblood. Most people living north of Dorne are thankful that Prince Jon will inherit the throne rather than his half-brother. However, devout followers of the Seven as well as the Dornish people were furious to learn that the youngest prince was first in line for the throne. It was a kick in the face to both people to learn that the two children from the King’s first marriage were put aside for the son born a few mere months after Aegon. There were a few attempts at the young prince’s life during his first few years of life but these threats have since stopped as more people supported the Prince’s rule and even more did not want another war. 

The young girl knew better than to ask why her of all people would be chosen for this job but she had known Lord Varys long enough not to question his motives. She simply nodded obediently.

“Good girl,” Lord Varys smiled. The girl preened at his words. “You would be the first to have the honor of spying on the prince so I trust that for today you will need to figure out which room he resides in. At dawn tomorrow, you are to tell me what you have heard. Do not disappoint me Little Bird.”

“I would never m’lord.” She swore. She had never disappointed him, nor would she ever.

She made her way to the Red Keep. It was not the first time she had ventured to the Red Keep so she was vaguely familiar with the passageway between the walls for her to travel in. For though she had little experience, she made a quick study her first time around between the walls of the castle to listen to what the servants had to say about the King. She stopped by the kitchens first, as not only the cooks had a habit of leaving food around close enough for her to grab it but because it was nearing time for the royal family to eat. She would follow the servants to the feasthall and then follow the prince to his room. Perhaps Lord Varys would give her extra coin for what happened to the entire royal family. She kept her footsteps in time with the servants she followed, careful not to be out of sync with them. She peered in from behind the opening in the wall to watch the royal family eat. 

His Majesty, King Rhaegar is an attractive man of six and thirty with his long silver-blonde hair in a long braid down his back. He looks neither like the villain nor the poet the young bird had heard him be described as. His youngest brother, Prince Viserys, resembled his brother for they had the same long nose and smooth cheekbones. In contrast to his brother however, his hair was worn short and loose by his shoulders. Beside the prince is Princess Daenerys, who wears the classic Targaryen features more delicately than her brothers. Unlike her brothers who are wearing an entirely red and black ensemble, she wears a lavender dress with red flowers embroidered on it. 

Across from his majesty sits his three children. Princess Rhaeneys, the eldest and the only daughter sits across from her father. Her skin is olive toned, making her stand out against the rest of her family. She has long and wildly curly brown hair and from where the little bird stands, light eyes. Violet, if she had to guess, the only link to her Targaryen heritage in her features. In contrast, her brother Aegon beared the snow white hair of his father that was also worn in a long braid as well as his father’s long nose and cheekbones. His skin was darker than his Valaryian and Northern relatives but still far paler than his sister. Beside them sat the prince the little bird was here to see. His back was turned to the little bird but from what she could tell he was tall for two and ten but still shorter than both his siblings. Dark, curly hair was worn loosely by his shoulders similar to his uncle. One hand was wrapped in gauze stained with dried blood while the other was bare and fair ike his Valaryian ancestors. 

“Is your hand feeling better?” Rhaeneys asks her brother while lifting her fork.

“It would if he would leave it alone.” Aegon speaks up, mouth full of food.

“Aegon, finish eating before you speak,” Viserys scolds. “No one wants to see your food.”

Aegon ignores his uncle and nudges his brother with his elbow. “The fool keeps unwrapping his wounds before he’s supposed to.” 

“If I am a fool brother,” Jon says for the first time, his voice teasing. “What does that make the boy who fails to speak to the girl he likes and once he gathers up his courage manages to spill his drink before he can get a single word out?”

Daenerys, Aegon, and Rhaeneys burst with laughter while Viserys hides his with a drink. 

“I would say he still has more success with potential brides than you, Jon.” Rhaegar says. Jon laughs at his father’s words but even from her hiding spot, the little bird can see how tense the subject makes him feel and hear how forced his laughter is. It’s a subject she will have to listen for in her future.

“Nonsense father,” Rhaeneys speaks up. “Once he’s older, the girls won’t be bothered by my little brother’s lack of swordsmanship and will be throwing themselves at his feet. He is the crowned prince after all.”

“Well, let’s hope he becomes a better swordsman before then,” Aegon joins in, giving his brother a one-sided hug. “Otherwise I pity the poor woman whose husband can barely hold up a sword.”

“Don’t get too cocky now brother,” Jon says, his body now relaxed. “I still have time to best you in combat. You’re another year older and soon your bones will be too weak to hold up a practice sword.”

The servants come in to exchange the family’s meal. The familiar grumble of hunger hit her stomach. It was a feeling she had grown accustomed to as a child but when in the presence of food, it hit her harder. The dinner food has a better aroma than the trash she is used to digging through. The food smelled sweet, like the candied treats Lord Varys gives her on her name days. For her eleventh name day she was given a candied apple which she ate greedily.

“After yesterday, I think you shouldn’t be getting cocky either nephew.” Daenerys says with a smile.”Afterall, how many men do you know try to block their opponent’s sword with their bare hands?” The little bird noted how the family was also eager to keep the topic away from marriage. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, much to the little bird’s displeasure. She needed information to give Lord Varys.

The royal family decided to retire not long after. Jon and his brother walked down the same corridor, the red haired bird silently following them. Not that she needed to be quiet as the two boys screamed down the halls. It was hard to listen to the boys behind the stone wall but it was the best she could do without risking her neck. 

The little bird spent the rest of the week following the prince’s rather static routine. She followed the prince in his room sometimes with his family or tutor, most often not. She would follow him from his room to the feast hall to his siblings’ rooms then back to his room. The only time the prince was not in her sight was when he went outside to train with the knights and his brother because it was too risky to spy on him in an open area. Once the prince turned in for bed the little bird would leave the same way she came and report back to Varys. There was nothing the young prince did that would benefit the spider’s web but Varys was glad to have a reliable spy familiar with the royal family. The little bird was thankful he was a patient man but knew he could send another bird in her place if she could not find anything of note. She could not bear to lose her position as Lord Varys’s favorite so she began to look for new hiding spots.

One evening, she found a loose stone that she removed to squeeze through a small crawl space behind a thick curtain. Here, she could listen to the boys’ conversation much better. The conversation was not a long or particularly interesting one. Both boys talked about swords and horses, neither topic that would hold Lord Varys’s interest. She had reported the boys’ brotherly bond to the Master of Whispers days before, squashing rumours of the two being manipulated into a rivalry when they grew older. Soon the boys parted ways, wishing each other a good night. The room is filled with silence once the door closes shut and the little bird wishes she could breathe. The prince is quiet when he is by himself and the little bird hates him for it. His brother was loud and active, like other boys his age. Why couldn’t the prince be like that as well?

She lets out a slow exhale, like Arya taught her. But as she finally inhales, the curtain is drawn back and she comes face to face with the prince himself for the first time. His face, recently washed, is still wet and he is in his sleeping wear. His face is fair and his eyes are dark. The curls around his face are damp and clinging to his cheeks and forehead. He is pretty, the little bird thinks, far prettier than most boys would be. But his attractiveness does not distract her from the dangerousness of her situation. He holds no weapon in his hands but little birds know more than anyone that a simple word is more powerful than any weapon. A single word from a _prince_ and she would be dead before dawn.

She would be another dead child from the streets of Flea Bottom with only Arya and Lord Varys to mourn her before they forget about her and go about their day.

Instead of angry, like she was expecting, the prince looks curious. “Who are you?”

She does not answer, because she lost her voice or because she knows it’s dangerous to have a voice. She backs into the wall, her heart beating so loud she can barely hear him repeat the question. When he gets no reply, he breaks his eye contact with her, taking in her appearance. His dark eyes make her squirm. Her dress, which she tries so hard to imagine is fine silk, is in rags and her bare feet are covered in calluses and dirt rather than in shoes that would prevent her from touching the pristine stone floors. She feels shame not for the first time and wishes he would be quick to kill her or let her free.

“Are you one of those little birds?” He asks and her legs give out, bowing in front of him. She hopes he cannot see her tears as she presses her face to the floor. She hopes that if she presses down hard enough she could become part of the stone. “Hey, now,” He says. “That’s not necessary, get up.”

She rises, albeit reluctantly, to her feet. “I’m sorry your grace.” Her eyes still do not meet his but she knows he is assessing the stranger in his room.

“You are pretty as far as spies go I suppose.” He says finally and now she has the bravery to look him in the eye. He is still taking in appearance, looking for something she cannot see for herself. She has been told she is a pretty child but the way the prince says it is different from how the others say it. She would be fearful if he said it like the others but he says it mindlessly, as if it is part of her assessment. Once he is done, after a long and uncomfortable pause, he speaks again. “Care to make a deal?”

She says nothing so Jon continues. “I know they will send another spy if I send you back but I need you to know I do not like being spied on so I think I would much rather have you watching me. So I will allow you to pretend to spy on me and I will give you secrets you can tell Lord Varys. All I ask is that you sit over there and tell me your name.” He points the chair next to his desk.

She knows the deal favors him more than it does her. But at least she gets to keep her head and slip Varys secrets, however false they may be. She is a little bird however, her job is to spread rumours not to fact check them. She also knows the castle passageways better than him so she would never get caught making sure these rumours are true. Perhaps it’s because he’s a child, barely older than her that she feels neither fear nor terror in his presence. Little boys are less scary than men no matter their ranking. It’s not quite trust but she doesn’t know a word that would describe the feeling she feels. Whatever the feeling, it finally allows her to let go of the breath she didn’t know she was holding and feel relaxed since meeting him. She nods her head and speaks her first words to the Prince. “It’s a deal.”

“What is your name?” He repeats his question because he knows the power in a name. She does as well which is why an eternity passes before she answers him.

“My name is Sansa.” She tells him.


	2. Yellow Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn about Robert's Rebellion, The Targaryens, and meet Arya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far! This is my first GOT fic so I hope I'm doing okay given its intelligent writing (when it's written by GRRM).
> 
> Happy reading!

Prince Jon has the air of a prince, as he should, but being next to him does not have the frightening affect as she thought it would. Prince Jon has a warmth that radiates off of him and he is kind and curious to the stranger he let into his room. He is proof to Sansa that songs can be real. But she still refuses to sit in the chair, choosing the ground beside his desk instead. The wall behind him has a tapestry long enough for her to hide under in the event someone walks in. It’s a beautiful piece, made years before either of them were born. It’s a deep blue color adorned with silver stars and a high moon shining above King’s Landing. Sansa sits below the tapestry, practicing her numbers as she counts the number of lit and unlit windows detailed in the picture. It fascinates her how detailed the tapestry can be that she can count the windows. She has trouble counting over five and ten but she is still captivated by the artistry. Counting also gives her an excuse to talk to him as little as possible, for her flea bottom accent fills her with shame. The prince tries to make conversation but he has difficulty continuing with it when she gives him one syllable answers. He sits in at his desk as the silence floods the room. It’s an awkward arrangement and she longs for the days he did not know she existed. 

Sansa’s ears are trained to hear the smallest of footsteps so she peaks behind the prince to see a shadow behind the bedroom door. She also takes this opportunity to look at what the prince is writing. Once again it is nothing interesting, just a letter to his step cousins in Dorne. Sansa had no time to read all of it without being caught but she was able to see the phrase ‘boring lectures’ and ‘miss you cousins’. She chooses to read the letter at a later time, for now she must hide from the servant assigned to the prince’s room. She hides behind the tapestry once she hears the knock. 

“Come in,” Prince Jon says as he stands to greet his servant. “Thank you.”

“Would you like anything else your majesty?” The servant asks and Sansa wishes she could see what the prince was gifted.

“No, no I’m fine for now.” He places the tray on his desk. “I will ring if I need anything else, thank you.”

“Of course your majesty.” The servant replies politely and leaves the room. 

After a beat of silence, Prince Jon calls Sansa. “It’s safe to come out now Sansa.”

Hesitantly, Sansa comes out of her hiding place to see the prince smiling and holding a plate of small yellow circles towards her. Sansa looks at the plate then back to his face.

“I had the kitchen bake this- for us,” He adds hastily. “They’re lemon cakes, my cousin likes them.”

She still stares at him with wide eyes. The small pastries smell so good but she has heard tales of accepting food from strangers. The prince seems to understand as well and takes one of the knives on the plate to cut a cake in half and eat it. He smiles with his mouth full and Sansa thinks it’s the first time he looked like his age. She takes the other half of the cake and takes small bites. She smiles at the flavor. It’s far better than anything Lord Varys has ever given her. 

“I’m pleased you like them. I was not fond of them at first but my cousin requests the cooks to make them all the time. In a few moons I will go down to Dorne with my siblings and my cousin will fill my belly with lemon cakes until I feel sick.” Prince Jon smiles at the memory. She takes her seat on the floor as she finishes her half of the cake. 

Sansa recalls how at certain times of the year the Crownlands lacked the sun kissed siblings. A little bird by the name of Tansy had told Sansa it was because the king had an arrangement with Dorne. The revelation that King Rhaegar annulled the marriage to Princess Elia before her death in addition to turning their children into bastards infuriated the Dornish people who only agreed to aid the Targaryen forces on the belief Elia would become queen and Aegon would become king. Tansy told her how Princess Elia screamed as she was consumed by wildfire and Sansa wonders if in her future as a little bird will she have to see something as horrific as a burning corpse. It is for that horrific reason Sansa does not fault Prince Oberyn for sending letters to Dornish allies. The troops outnumbered the Crownland forces and were angry enough to spark a rebellion for their fallen princess and disgraced children. The Hand of the King was sent to Dorne to establish a treaty between the houses for the land had seen too much war in a short time. The agreement the two Houses came to was that Princess Elia’s children would both be added back to the line of succession, however both would be second and third in line after Prince Jon. In addition, House Martell was wary to keep Princess Elia’s children in King’s Landing for an entire year so despite the danger of letting the royal children travel, the two houses agreed to dual custody. As a result, for six moons the siblings will stay with House Martell and for another six months with House Targaryen. In addition, King Rhaegar sent the body of Princess Elia’s murderer, Lord Rossart, to House Martell as a sign of peace.

While she recalls Westeros history, the prince sits next to Sansa, the plate of pastries in one hand and his letter in his other. He places the tray between them, though it’s closer to her than it is to him. Sansa is surprised to see the prince is willing to lower himself to her level and dirty his own clothes. Her wool dress is so dirty and pale from the sun and repeated use that she forgets the color it originally was. Sansa pulls it into her body, careful not to let it touch the prince’s new silk tunic. 

“You can have the rest of them.” Prince Jon tells her with a smile. “I have sword fighting in a little bit so I shouldn’t be eating at all.” Sansa nods, afraid of showing her mouth full of food. 

“Do you have any talents outside of spying Sansa?” Prince Jon asks her as he cuts another piece of cake for himself.

Sansa chews her food, mulling the question in her mind. Lord Varys is the only one who has ever asked such a question before. “I can sing your grace. Not as well as any minstrel but well enough.” _“I’m a little songbird,”_ Sansa thinks to herself, _“Repeating the words of greater men.”_

“Perhaps one day I will hear a song.” The prince says.

“Do you have a favorite song your grace?” Sansa asks. For all her spying, everything about the prince is still a mystery to her.

“I like ‘The Bear and the Maiden Fair’,” Jon says.

“I haven’t heard of that one your grace,” Sansa says.

“It’s about a maiden dancing with a bear and then he starts to eat her hair.” The prince says.

Sansa gasps and covers her mouth. “Oh my,” She begins to giggle. “Where did you hear that song?”

“I heard a few knights singing it with my father.” Prince Jon says giggling as well.

“It’s good to know the king has a sense of humour.”

“Yes, it would interfere with his brooding.” The two of them giggle until a knock makes them freeze. Sansa crawls behind the tapestry without a word as the prince rises to his feet.

Sansa slows her breathing, trying to hear the conversation at the door.

“I am here to escort you to your sword fighting practice your grace.” A deep voice says.

“Of course Ser, let me put on my training breeches.” Jon responds and shuts the door. Sansa can hear shuffling clothes and wills herself to stay put until he comes to get her. There is no telling what kind of punishment that will be delivered if she catches him in his smallclothes. Before long, Prince Jon peeks behind the tapestry. 

“I have practice now so I’ll be gone for hours. Will you be here when I return?”

“I don’t know,” Sansa lies.

“Well you can finish off the lemon cakes.” He tells her and Sansa looks at the plate of yellow pastries.

“Thank you, your grace.” Prince Jon smiles and leaves. Sansa counts to fifteen before she walks across the room then into the tunnels between the walls then out of the castle.

\---

“Prince Jon ordered lemoncakes to his room and was singing to himself. I couldn’t hear what song but he looked happy while he did it. He was also writing a letter to his cousins who wrote that Prince Oberyn brought home his base born daughter from Volantis for the season.” Sansa reported hands sweating and eyes on the floor. Her master is focused on the scroll in front of him but she still feels nervous. “He will be traveling to see them in a few moons to see his cousins with his siblings.”

“ _Step_ cousins and _half_ siblings,” Lord Varys corrects her, turning to face her, a loaf of bread in hand. “It can be easy to forget, Ladybird, but their father is the only difference it makes when it comes to their relationship. But excellent work.”

“Thank you Lord Varys.” Lord Varys hands her the bread and tells Sansa nothing else so she leaves as quietly as she came.

Giving her bread was more than enough payment for Sansa. The Master of Whispers owned the building Sansa was allowed to sleep in. She lacked a mattress and her own room but it was more than most street rats were allowed to have so she counted her blessings gratefully. Arya shared the room with her though it feels like more given that Arya conducts business in the room. Arya, in addition to being a little bird, hunts pigeons and rats throughout the city and sells them to little birds from her room. Most of the people coming in and out of her room do not know it is her and Sansa’s room which both of them intend to keep that way as favoritism is dangerous in their line of work. Sansa has a system in which she organizes her belongings so she knows if her things have been tampered with. Nothing has gone missing yet but a little bird by the name of Bree was caught snooping around her belongings. Sansa gave her a hard yank of a fistful of hair and a firm slap across the face. Bree has been careful not to cross Sansa again.

Arya was setting up her side of the room when Sansa enters. Arya’s clothes are much messier than Sansa’s own. Sansa takes deep care of her clothes, washing it in the ocean about once a month and mending the tears whenever she gets her hands on thread. She still looks like a smallfolk girl but she looks more presentable. Arya on the other hand has dried blood on her tunic from her previous hunts and various bruises. Her breeches have dried mud and frayed edges. In addition, her hair is short and uncombed in contrast to Sansa’s long and braided hair. Sansa sometimes finds herself jealous of Arya’s androgynous looks. She has a plain face that make it hard to decipher if she is a girl or boy and her wild smile keep people from fighting her. Sansa is much more feminine looking and has on more than one occasion been told she would grow to be a beautiful woman one day. And she knows what happens to beautiful women. She would much rather look wild and plain like Arya.

“Hello Ladybird,” Arya greets her.

“Hello yourself,” Sansa responds. “Did you hunt today?”

“No, Lord Varys had me spy on the Kingsguard.”

Sansa looks at Arya with a gasp. “Oh my goodness. Why?”

Arya shrugs. “The Spider does not tell us his plans you know this. I just assume it’s to make sure he has tabs on everyone in the kingdom.”

“Well thank the Seven you were not caught.” Sansa says under her small blanket as she breaks bread. “Here have some.” She tosses Arya a piece.

“Well, it’s no more scary than spying on the prince up in his fancy castle.” Arya accepts the bread, tearing it apart. “Has he done anything yet?”

“No,” Sansa lies. “He just sits in his room, writes, reads, and practices sword with his brother.”

“I wish I was a noble,” Arya says with a mouthful of bread. “A noble boy that is. I’d want to stay a girl if we could learn the art of the sword too.”

“Well you could _pretend_ to be a noble born by eating with your mouth closed.” Sansa teases as she eats her last bit of bread. Her suggestion only makes Arya chew louder and with her mouth open wider. Sansa laughs. “You’re disgusting.”

“Bastard and proud my dear Sansy!” Arya says as she lies down. “Good night Ladybird.”

“Sweet dreams you troll.” Sansa says still sitting up. Arya has turned to face away from Sansa who fishes something out of her pocket. It’s the last lemoncake Prince Jon gifted her. She looks out the window to see the tallest tower of the Red Keep. Sansa eats the last lemon cake in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The treaty between House Targ and Martell is based on King Henry VIII’s Third Succession Act. Many people wanted Mary I back in the line of succession, one rebellion even lists that as one of their demands for a better England but his first and second acts listed both Mary and Elizabeth as bastards while Henry could name his heir. After Edward VI was born, both girls were added back to the succession after Edward and any of his possible siblings despite still being bastards under this act. In this fic both Rhaenerys and Aegon are able to take the crown should Jon die or step down. The only reason Edward removed his sisters from the line of succession was due to religious conflicts between Edward and Mary and despite my many years of theology classes, I do not know how to create another religion so there will not be any conflicts like that between the Targ heirs.
> 
> I also apologize for how I killed Elia. She is my favorite out of the Dead Wives Club as I relate to her being the only WOC in a mostly white area. But I didn’t know how to write her in a way that would make sense in this AU. Her killer is King Aeys’s Hand that created wildfire so I thought he should die as well. 
> 
> I think I fancast Rhys as Rhaegar, Raveena Aurora as young Rhaenerys (maybe Medallion Rahimi as older Rhaenerys) and Avan Jogia as older Aegon. But feel free to interpret them however you want, unless you interpret the Dornish as white. They are not white.
> 
> Thank you for reading and please comment and leave a kudos with how you feel about this fic so far. If you like it please tell me so I will write more chapters at a faster pace. If you hate it don’t write anything and read a better fic.


	3. The Mermaid's Lament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is a politician and a teacher in the making. Arya will be Westeros's first businesswoman pirate. Jon is sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I know it’s been a while since I updated but hopefully this chapter was worth it.

The two girls walk by the docks, watching traders from around the world unload their cargo and yell at their crews. Sansa has lived in King’s Landing her entire life and hopes to one day see the rest of what the world has to offer. She knows one day Arya will leave the city and search for adventure. It’s easy to picture the fierce Arya as captain of her own ship. It isn’t common but Sansa knows the only common thing about Arya is her birth. She fully believes Arya would be the one to destroy what the world knows. The shorter girl is already a strict merchant, trading rats and pigeons in the privacy of her own room as well as being better at sums than any street rat Sansa has ever known. Arya could conquer the world if given the chance.

Arya would wear a leather coat that would blow back when the sea storms would try to make her bend. But being Arya, she would stand tall and refuse to back down. She would wear a leather belt that held little trinkets from her travels. Arya has never been a materialistic person in contrast to Sansa, but Sansa has seen how lovingly she takes care of items of sentiment. Sansa has never seen a women wear leather trousers or cut their hair like a man but she knows Arya would be the first. But her clothes would not hide her femininity for Sansa knows Arya will grow into her features and become a beautiful woman. Arya has always been a skinny, young thing and it is doubtful that she will ever build up enough fat to change this. But Sansa has never seen a woman who lacked feminine curves and Arya’s leather armor would showcase it. Perhaps Sansa spent too much time observing mothers but she could never imagine Arya looking truly masuline. Perhaps when Arya takes a moment to walk on land, she will wear silk shirts with flowing pants with layers of jewelry like the Dornish. She would drink and be merry, singing songs, and telling men of her swashbuckling tales. Sansa wishes she could join Arya on her journeys as captain but she knows the seas are no place for a soft girl such as herself. Unless she was to become a mermaid that followed Arya’s voyages across the known world.

Sansa thinks she would make a good mermaid, like House Manderly’s sigil. But a princess mermaid would fit her better perhaps. A mermaid with long locks of red hair, intertwined with pearls and shells that contrasts with the deep blue sea. She would swim to the icy lands of White Harbor and the salty islands of the Iron Islands. She would sit on rocks, singing to the ships that pass her at night. One night, a handsome sailor would bravely swim to her and pledge his eternal love for her. They would kiss and she would teach him to breath underwater where they would love each other forever. Perhaps it is how she was born- a mermaid and a sailor fell in love but their two worlds tore them apart. But before they were ripped from the world for good they gave left her in King’s Landing and are waiting for her to join them in the sea.

“Where do you think you would want to travel first?” Sansa says, popping a caramelized nut into her mouth. She watches a blue haired merchant roll a barrel of wine onto the dock.

Arya grabs a handful of nuts from the older girl’s hand before responding. “I heard Braavos is a beautiful city. I hear the whole city is flooded with water and you’ve got to take boats instead of horses to get around!” She says excitedly whilst eating the sweets. “I’ve met a trader from there and he’s taught me some words. I reckon by the time I’ve made enough coin to travel I’ll be fluent.”

“What can you say?” Sansa asks, curious to know what the other side of the world sounds like.

Arya says repeats what she has learned in her thick Flea Bottom accent. She sounds hesitant and stumbles over some of the vowels but it sounds foreign enough for Sansa to believe her.

“What does that mean?”

“Fish, clams, ship,” Arya responds. “It’s not a lot but it’s still more than what you know.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Sansa protests. “Could you teach me?”

“Only in exchange for your needlework. I’ve been asked for your things many a time, I want to sell that with my rats.” Arya bargains.

“But I don’t have that many scrap fabrics to stitch on,” Sansa protests. She admires Arya’s strict business deals- just so long as she isn’t a recipient of it. “I can’t possibly accept a deal where you benefit more than I.”

“Each finished needlework you give me, I’ll teach you ten words in return.” Arya counters.

Sansa considers the offer. “Deal.”

“Deal.” Arya shakes Sansa’s hand. “If you give me your red flower when we return to our room, I’ll teach you ten words right now.”

“Fine,” Sansa says and adds ten words to her Braavosi vocabulary. Perhaps she would turn into a mermaid and follow Arya to the waters of Braavos.

\---

Sansa stares out the window facing the sea. Prince Jon is at his desk studying Northern Houses. Sansa would be suspicious that he has made the decision to study in his room as to ensure she wouldn’t be able to run to the Master of Whispers but even when she follows him outside of his room he is just as quiet. She stopped worrying weeks ago however. The prince has always been a quiet boy but she’s observant enough to find the smallest bit of information for Lord Varys who treasures it like gold. In addition, when Sansa snuck into the castle she heard the tailend of the prince being reprimanded by his father. His lessons, she deduced, were his punishment for allowing his sister to play fight him in the courtyard.

“What are you thinking of?” Prince Jon says, breaking the comfortable silence. Sansa turns to face him. He looks terribly bored of his lesson and Sansa knows she could entertain him with the fanciful thoughts that had entertained Little Birds of the past.

“I was thinking about what it would be like to be a mermaid.”

“A mermaid?”

“Yes, like House Manderly’s sigil. I was sitting by the docks before coming her and I saw a sailor jump into the sea. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to swim in the depths of the ocean, my hair loose behind me with pearls braided into them and fish swimming next to me in a flurry of rainbow colors. I would travel through the seas and go to Lannisport, maybe find a gold coin or two. I’ve heard people say they’ve seen mermaids there. Maybe even up north and find the mermaids in the Iron Islands and in White Harbor. A sailor once told me their Drowned God has a hall of mermaids waiting to dance with men.”

Jon looks a little mystified about her imagination. “You have a beautiful imagination. How do you know so much about Northern Houses?” He asks kindly. “Can you read?”

The ignorance of her question hurts a little but she has always found her greatest strength was being underestimated so Sansa tries to hide her pride when she speaks. “Lord Varys makes sure all his birds know the houses and histories. Even if he didn’t teach us, I’m a quick learner.”

“You are lucky then. My eyes have grown tired, reading these words over and over again without understanding a word of them.” He sounds tired and aged for a boy ten and two.

Sansa wonders if she should keep quiet or offer her services. Her pride has gotten her in trouble many times before and while she likes the prince, she does not trust him. She only has to look at his fine silks to remember who has the power between them. She knows Lord Varys wouldn’t help her if she were caught. But on the other hand, if she were to help his majesty, he could express his gratitude with food or a secret or lifelong friendship. 

She decides to take a leap of faith. “Would you like my help?”

Jon perks up at the idea and Sansa exhales. “Please. I have to learn all the Northern Houses by tomorrow.”

Sansa looks at the text and starts talking excitedly. “House Manderly is the one with the mermaids, they’re on the coast of White Knife living in this great big fortress.” Sansa pulls the book on her lap and looks over the text. She is easily forgetful when she’s excited. Arya has remarked it is one of the few flaws she has. “Do you know how they get money?”

Jon rakes his brain, searching for the answer. 

“It has to do with ships.” Sansa says.

It only takes a moment until the answer reaches him. “They’re traders. And soldiers!” He answers gleefully.

“Yes!” Sansa says with equal glee. “And their sigil?”

“Mermaids,” Jon says with a small laugh.

“I wish all the sigils were as wonderful as the mermaids. Direwolves and krakens are magnificent too, I don’t know why enough houses have something as awesome as that. Though, the Boltons have the flayed man which is awesome, I suppose, in a very creepy way.”

“What houses have the direwolf and kraken as their sigil?”

Sansa doesn’t notice her mistake while her mind runs wild. If she can prove her worth to the prince maybe he can have her as a servant or better yet, a lady in waiting to his sister. Lord Varys promised her a happy future, away from the streets of Flea Bottom but Sansa knows a prince can provide far more for her than a man with no noble blood. And perhaps the prince would reward her had she not been so careless.

“House Greyjoy has the kraken and House Stark has the direwolf.” She flips to the page of the Stark’s sigil and points to it. She didn’t realize how careless she was.

“House Stark is no more.” Jon says firmly. And for the first time since meeting him is she reminded what a prince can do. Even with his rich clothes and his brooding and title, Sansa forgets all the power the boy prince holds. It;s the fury behind his eyes that makes her remember the horrid history of House Stark.

House Stark was his  _ mother’s _ house.

The mother Jon never met because she died on the birthing bed without a maester in sight. 

_ (Sansa has heard songs of how Lady- or  _ Princess _ depending on who is singing the song- Lyanna died at the age of five and ten in a crumbling castle in a room full of blue roses and blood.) _

The House whose lord and heir where killed by  _ Jon’s  _ Grandfather trying to save the North’s daughter. One through fire and the other through strangling.

Then after the war was won by  _ his  _ father, it was the house that went back to their cold, barren land.

And because of a few rumors it was the House that was wiped out. By Jon’s  _ father.  _

_ (Sansa knows the king has never admitted to killing his young wife’s house but there is no one else in the kingdom with enough power to erase an entire house.) _

The House whose lord, the second son who  _ never  _ expected to be a lord, and heir were beheaded. The House whose lady was thrown into a river as a mockery of her Tully customs.

_ (Sansa has heard rumors that the lord and his young son’s heads were placed on pikes as a warning to the rest of the North.) _

The House that was the first of many to be wiped out of existence.

“I’m sorry,” Sansa says with tears in her eyes. She’s sorry for both his families and for reminding him of the tragedy of his mother’s house. She’s sorry she made him even sadder. 

_ (Later, when Sansa is alone in the streets of Flea Bottom she wonders if his family is why he is always a sad, brooding boy of ten and two. A more selfish part of her thinks that if that is the kind of sadness family brings, she might be better off without one.) _

“I’m so sorry Jon.” She says again in a whisper.

Jon has tears in his eyes too so he looks away from her. “I am too.” He swallows his pain down before speaking to her again, more mature than any young boy that Sansa has met. “Please, stay and help me study.”

Sansa nods and continues because she doesn’t know what else to do. She keeps teaching him about the houses in the North, gently correcting his mistakes, guiding him towards the correct answers, and smiling when he gets the question right. The two study until the morning and Sansa wakes up- ‘ _ alive _ ’ she thinks gratefully- with the softest, warmest blanket wrapped around her.

\---

News spreads quickly, especially if you’re the one spreading it. The city is crowded with people, people shouting as they line the streets to see the Tyrells are coming. Though Lord Mace is not a stranger to the city, it is rare for the rest of his family to follow him into King’s Landing. Sansa strains to look over the crowd who are jumping and cheering. Arya woke up early and has climbed atop the roofs to watch the parade from above. From inside a carriage, a hand throws bread to the starving crowds. Sansa runs to pick up some bread, the hand seemingly never running out of bread to give. Sansa wonders what life is like for a person with a full stomach.

The royal family stood in front of the Red Keep to greet their guests. The white haired siblings in the front with Jon next to his majesty and his half siblings opposite their aunt. Princess Daenerys was dressed in a light red dress with green brocade over the sleeves and black pearls crossed over her collarbones. Princess Rhaeneys wears a green dress crossed with lighter green in a way that resembled chains. Black pearls crossed over her collar bones in a similar fashion to her aunt. Her hair was in elegant braids with red gems and pearls intertwined in them. The men of the family were dressed in their house colors, black jacket and breeches with red brocade. 

Lady Olenna, the queen of thorns, leaves the carriage first, her face set in a frown and her hair hidden away by her hat and veil. Her son and grandsons follow dressed in their house colors until finally Lady Margaery followed. Varys had little birds all over the world from Pentos to Dorne to Winterfell. Sansa had heard many whispers about how the rose of Highgarden was growing more and more beautiful each day. From where Sansa stood, she didn’t know how Margaery could get any more beautiful. The lady of high garden wore her hair down with braids framing her heart shaped face. Though her nose resembled a pig and her mouth was asymmetrical, these features only enhanced her beauty for how they complimented her high cheekbones and sharp eyes. Sansa could not think of another woman who shared her features and for that she was the most beautiful people she had ever seen. Sansa wished she would marry one of the Targaryens so she could be queen and never leave King’s Landing.

Sansa looks down at her gray wool dress, covered in fleas, and was reminded of her status. She often prays, selfishly she would admit, that she will one day soon dress in fine silk and braids weaved on her head and have a belly full of food. Lord Varys had told her that he will give her a proper job after she is no longer little. Sansa has been working on her needle point and hopes with all her being that if she reaches adulthood, her job will allow her to wear silk dresses. 

Sansa watches Lord Mace Tyrell and his majesty from her spot inside the wall. The children are elsewhere speaking politely to one another. Sansa hears the word ‘marriage’ spoken more than once by Lord Mace. She knows Lady Cersei is to be wed to King Rhaegar in a few short moons but surely the Tyrells are not here for that. She continues to listen.

“Surely his majesty would wish for his children to marry into a rich and noble house such as ours.” Mace Tyrell says. 

“I have already made arrangements to align with the House Lannister, a house better known for its riches than your house.” King Rhaegar says unamused.

“Ah well, I was not referring to just you your majesty.” Mace says unconvincingly. “We both have children who could be a great match. My daughter is known for being a great beauty and has her mother’s birthing hips so rest assured your sons will have many heirs. And my eldest son will inherit the Reach so your daughter will the lady of a great agricultural house. You may be thinking now that one of your children should wed a Lannister because of their riches. But I must remind you that mines can dry up and we can get gold from elsewhere, but the people will always need food only the Reach can provide.” 

King Rhaegar is silent, staring at Lord Mace with unblinking eyes. Sansa is scared to breathe, she cannot imagine how Lord Mace must feel. He sounded proud speaking to the king but she can see his body language becoming less so.

“I will have to speak to my small council about this Lord Tyrell. You have brought many good points to my attention.” The king answers shortly.

“Many thanks your majesty.” Lord Tyrell says sighing with relief. “I look forward to a union between our houses soon.”

Sansa wonders if Lord Tyrell’s marriage attempts will be successful and who will marry Margaery Tyrell. Jon would be the best case scenario for the noble house but Sansa can see the king not letting the ambitious Tyrells getting that close to power and arranging a marriage between Margaery and Aegon. However, she could not imagine a scenario where the Tyrells wouldn’t marry into the Targaryen house. The food and riches the Tyrells would bring to the capital is too great of a strength to the Targaryen House to reject. To reject their offer would be foolish. Sansa tells Lord Varys as much.

He chuckles lowly. “Astute observation my lady bird. But who do you think would marry Prince Jon if not Lady Tyrell?”

Sansa thinks hard of all the great houses and their children. 

“Tell me your thoughts.” Lord Varys says.

“Well the Targaryens need to secure alliances with other houses since the relationship between the people and the crown has been… strained. So the Targaryens aren’t going to return to marrying one another anytime soon. But I don’t know of many daughters who can marry into the crown.” Sansa says, searching her brain for daughters of great houses. “House Tary recently announced the birth of a daughter but I do not know what House Tarly can offer that House Tyrell cannot. But the princes are still young so their brides may not be born yet. I imagine House Martell would offer their eldest son to marry Princess Rhaenys but other birds have told me the king is not even thinking of suitors for her. The North would be a great ally but I do not know of any Northern brides. Well, House Reed announced the birth of a daughter but I cannot imagine them being an option for a bride.”

“Your memory never ceases to amaze me little bird.” Lord Varys smile. “So who do you think would be a good bride for the prince? You have observed him for some time now, what kind of woman do you think he would prefer?”

Sansa hesitates, wondering if her secret has been told to the Spider. “Well his majesty is very quiet often studying in his own room, but talented with a sword and close to his siblings- half siblings sorry, m’lord. He would need a trustworthy bride to talk to. Lady Margaery seems like every bit a lady as in the songs so I see no reason why she shouldn’t be a good wife and queen.”

Lord Varys hums but reveals any of his thoughts to Sansa.

“Very good lady bird,” He hands her her payment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mermaids in the south according to ASOIAF lore are much friendlier than the ones in the north ~Is this Foreshadowing?~ but I don’t think a young Sansa would know that yet. Also I don’t think GOT showcased Arya’s adaptability that much. Like in the books I haven’t read she’s a polyglot and a good businesswoman and good at math. I feel like it’d be better portrayed and more relevant because she is a street urchin who would have to be quick thinking in order to survive because Varys can only pay so much. Also, in the continuation of being a dick, Rhaegar not only made Jon learn all his northern houses to make sure he knows his subjects but also to remind him of the mother he will never know and the reason why half the kingdom hates him in order to make him sad. Also I forgot to add Cersei to the Targ family earlier so that’s why she’s marrying them now despite being older than most brides on their first wedding.
> 
> Leave a comment- no matter how short- and hit that kudos button.
> 
> Hope to see you readers soon!


	4. The Tourney

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a romantic chapter for Valentine's Day sorry to say but one full of family love and arranged marriage.
> 
> There is a Tourney and the small folk children have fun.

“Gendry says the men in tourneys aren’t real knights.” Arya says loudly as the two of them get ready for said tournament.

“They’re called ‘sers’ and wear armor,” Sansa says braiding her hair. “How couldn’t they be knights?”

“Gendry says any fool with enough money can wear armor.” Arya responds. “And he’s older than you so he knows more.”

Sansa rolls her eyes. “Any fool with enough luck can be older than me, doesn’t mean they know more.”

Arya rolls her eyes but does not respond. That’s when Sansa knows she’s won. But she also doesn’t want to be the odd one out when the two of them meet Gendry before the tourney.

“Is he bringing food?”

“He better be. Just cos’ he’s an apprentice doesn’t mean he can’t get any food for us.”

“What does being an apprentice have to do with anything?”

“They don’t get paid anything. But with the way he goes on about his master you’d think Gendry been given all the money in the Keep.”

“You shouldn’t pick on people bigger than you.” Says a voice. Sansa turns to see a tall boy leaning on the doorway. He’s got dark hair but it could also be lighter given the amount of smoke and soot on the boy. He’s got a thin glaze of sweat over his smiling face. Sansa has been told many times that she is a very pretty girl and Arya has a very plain face (if that person was being nice about her looks) and as a result, tends to grab the attention of strangers. But Gendry’s dark eyes are staring only at Arya. Sansa can’t help but smile.

“Then I wouldn’t get to pick on anyone.” Arya responds with a smile.

“But to answer your question, I did bring food.” He holds up a bird's leg. It’s a little thin but Sansa knows how hard it is to get meat without a nobleman’s budget especially for three people.

“You are my favorite person today Gendry.” Sansa says eagerly going to the boy for a rare chance to eat meat.

“Thank you,” He hands her the chicken leg. “Nice to know Arya hasn’t scared all the good people away.”

“So you’re saying you’re awful?” Arya says walking up to the boy and snatching a chicken leg from his other hand. “Sansa says it’s wrong to speak bad about people to their face but since you’re the one who brought it up…”

Gendry scoffs but lets her take the food anyway. “Let’s go or we’re gonna be late and not see any of the pretty boys play knights and roll around in the dirt.”

The girls follow him through the city. Arya told her that Gendry helped set up the tourney so he’s gonna know all the spots for them to sneak into without paying anything. The city is predictably busy- people trying to sell things, people making way to the tourney, people buying things, and people screaming at vendors because they can’t buy anything. Crowds flooded the street and Sansa is only half surprised when she loses sight of both Arya and Gendry.

Sansa tries to stretch her neck over the crowd and call their names but with this many people she can’t see either of them nor would they be able to hear her. There’s too many people pushing and they’re all taller than her and she doesn’t know where the tourney is and-

Sansa spots a silver gleam in the corner of her eye. There’s no one on the streets of King’s Landing who would wear anything as shiny as silver unless they were a noble or a knight. Or as Gendry would put it a ‘rich fool playing dress up’.

Sansa pushes through the crowd and runs to the shining knight. His back is to her, talking with another man dressed in yellow. A nobleman- though calling him a man was pushing it, he looked about Sansa’s age- if Sansa was right about the fabric. The knight has a blue crest on his shield, though Sansa cannot remember the exact house it is from. Nonetheless, he is a nobleman so he is the most trustworthy man in Flea Bottom.

“Excuse me,” Sansa says calling attention to herself as politely as possible. “Ser do you know where the tourney is?”

The pair looks at her and she realizes the knight was no knight at all but a woman in armor. She had no idea that women could wear armor. She thought the Targaryens were the exception and not the rule. Her hair was a pale blonde color cropped short like a man and her eyes a clear blue. She was incredibly tall for someone but the woman was also an adult. The man next to her had dark hair pulled away from his handsome face and blue-green eyes that changed in the light. He was also tall but not as tall as the lady knight. Also unlike her, the man had a kind face.

“Yes we were on our way,” The man says with a smile. “My lady here is to represent me.”

The lady knight smiles and Sansa thinks she looks much kinder if not prettier. “My name is Brienne of House Tarth. I am representing House Tarth in the melee. This is Renly… of House Baratheon.”

Sansa freezes but tries not to let it show because the blonde woman is waiting for a reaction and has a sword on her belt. “It’s nice to meet you.” She says politely. “My name is Sansa.”

“Lovely name, I am Renly.” says the man. “Walk with us and tell us about King’s Landing.”

The trio walk side by side as Sansa tries to make her life sound romantic while avoiding any talk of the Targaryens. The last thing she wants to do is upset the man whose family tried to kill the King. One wrong word and the boy could have his lady knight throw her body to the sewers.

“My friend Arya befriended a blacksmith apprentice who helped set up the tourney.” Sansa says. “He’s very tall.”

“A blacksmith? Very good trade to be in.” Renly said kindly.

“Have you put any thought into what you would like to do when you’re older?” Lady Brienne asks politely. 

Sansa looks up at her. “I haven’t really thought of it.” She replies. She knows she will have to grow up and stop being a little bird but as an orphan she does not know what her options are. “I have no family you see.”

“My sincerest apologies m’lady.” Lady Brienne says her regret visible on her face. 

“It is of no matter. I am quite good at sewing but I don’t know anyone who’d take me as an apprentice.” The more Sansa thought of it, the more worried she became. Lord Varys always told her he had a plan for her future but she has been rather tight lipped as of late so his plans may be changing. He could tire of her so easily. And Sansa was getting older. She’s heard rumours of little birds getting their tongues cut once they got too big for their jobs. Sansa knew of a few birds who got to keep their tongues but those women worked in brothels. Sansa thought of leaving Lord Varys from time to time, make her own coin but she knew she could at least trust Lord Varys. She knew how to please him and if she pleased him well perhaps she wouldn’t be sent to a brothel. She couldn’t bear the thought of sullying her body like those women. If she got an apprenticeship with a stranger who knows what could happen to her. She could end up somewhere worse than a brothel.

Lady Brienne could see Sansa was getting upset. “If it would interest you I could ask if anyone would want to take you as a lady in waiting or a scullery maid.”

“Oh yes, Brienne that is a wonderful idea.” Lord Renly says brightly as they reach the entrance to the tourney. The idea sounded less wonderful to Sansa but no one else had given her an option like that before. “Perhaps when you are older Sansa we will meet again. And I will whisk you away from the chaos in King’s Landing and bring you to the Stormlands. You can see the Isle of Tarth and its sapphire waters. The waters are almost as beautiful as my Lady Brienne’s eyes.”

Brienne blushes and Sansa’s heart can’t help but melt. What a lovely couple the two made. Perhaps Lord Renly and his knight would one day marry and have no need to otherthrow the Targaryens.

“That sounds lovely m’lord, m’lady.” Sansa curtsies at the two kind noble people. “I hope we shall meet again in the future.”

“It was lovely meeting you Sansa.” Lady Brienne bows as does Lord Renly. “Good-bye.”

They part ways, Sansa looking for either the tall blacksmith or the tiny Little Bird. The splendor of the tourney does distract her however. The sound of the crowd already screaming even though the joust having yet to begin fills her ears, the smell of roast cooking makes her stomach rumble, the fresh faced squires eager to please as they run around makes her watch where she is going and, the banners snapping in the wind proudly proclaiming their sigil mesmerise her vision. The knights however catch her eye the most. The handsome men in their shining armor riding their noble steeds, Sansa cannot help but be enchanted. She sees Ser Renly chatting with a familiar face. By the series of flowers engraved into his armor, Sansa can guess the handsome man is the Knight of Flowers, Ser Loras of House Tyrell. Lady Brienne is also there but Sansa cannot tear her eyes from Ser Loras who looks much more handsome than when she saw him behind the walls of the Red Keep. His locks of curled brown hair look so soft Sansa wants to run her hands through them and his cheekbones make Sansa want to place a kiss on each of them. What tears her attention away from the beautiful man is the sound of familiar loud bickering. Sansa looks around to see Gendry and Arya both under by the stands. She runs to the both of them, glad to see her only friends. Gendry is the first to see her and points in her direction. Arya looks over to where he is pointing and runs to Sansa, trapping her in a hug.

“I thought you died you idiot.” Arya’s said into Sansa’s dress.

Sansa returns the rare hug and buries her face into the top of Arya’s head. “I’m happy to see you too, Horseface.”

It was a nice moment, broken by the cheers of the crowd. The tourney had finally begun. Arya pushes Sansa away but still keeping their hands clasped together and runs back into the crowd holding Sansa’s hand so tightly as to not let the redhead girl escape from her again. The trio push through the people until they reach the front of the crowd.

From their spot in the crowd Sansa can see the soon to be queen of Westeros sitting by the king. Cersei Lannister is undoubtedly beautiful and it takes Sansa’s breath away. She first notices the blonde’s red dress. It’s a bright red, not dark like the Targaryen sigil, with black and green embroidery curling around her shoulders. The embroidery also curls around her breasts and down her stomach and opens the skirt at the waist to expose a red skirt of a lighter shade with black brocade. Curly golden blonde hair and fair skin and a slender, graceful frame and a beautiful smile- every feature Sansa hopes to one day have as an adult. The future queen has sharp features- cheekbones, eyes, nose, and eyebrows all characteristics of a noblewoman. These features however make her look smart and Sansa has to wonder how intelligence will help the future queen. She hopes the queen will be happy even if she is intelligent. Sansa had laid awake many nights hoping her parents would come for her and whisk her away to a far away place. There she would be crowned queen in a land of eternal happiness. Cersei Lannister, the beautiful woman, has found her king to whisk her to the land of eternal happiness. Sansa hopes to be like her one day.

Beside the future queen is her future husband, King Rhaegar. While Cersei is all smiles, the king is sitting melancholic and impassive to the woman beside him. But the king always has that expression on his face, it is his default. The King wears a coat in the same shade of red as his future queen and a black metal clasp down his torso. It is made of damask fabric with a crossed pattern. Underneath, his sleeves exposed black sleeves patterned like scales and a pair of pants and tall boots. His long hair is in its usual braid away from his face while his crown sits on his head, its rubies calling out to Sansa. His Kingsguard stood next to him, equally impassive as his King, in his golden armor. His children sat in front of him, his first two born on his left side. 

Princess Rhaenys sits straight in a pale red almost pink dress with golden dragons applique with slashing on her arms, exposing her golden sleeves underneath. Her hair is pulled back into a complicated design of braids and buns. Her brother, Prince Aegon leans back in his seat, noticeably more relaxed than any other member of his family. He wears a green coat with a large black three headed dragon on each side of his cape. He wears a dark grey undershirt and like his father it bears a dragon scale pattern. He wears a pair of black pants and boots as well. Sansa thinks he looks handsome, like Aegon the Dragonknight reborn. Across from them, on the king’s right side sits the heir, Prince Jon. Sansa can honestly say that as she spends more and more time with him, she forgets he is a prince and not a solemn boy in a high castle. But in his expensive fabrics and metals, she cannot think of him as anything but a prince. He wears a dark red tunic with the caplet over the left side of his torso. Prince Jon wears silver clasps down his torso and a matching silver metal piece over his shoulders. He keeps tucking his hair back but the stubborn dark curls hair continue to hang loose around his face. His posture is straight, same as it always is, but the prince appears to be keeping his eyes firmly on his black boots. Sansa makes a mental note in her mind to ask him about it later if he stays like this the entire tourney. 

The king’s sister and brother are sitting in the bleachers beside them. Princess Daenerys wore a silver and pink damask dress with hanging sleeves and her hair in an elaborate series of braids with a silver headpiece over it. Her brother, Prince Viserys wore a pale red coat in damask fabric in the same pattern as his sister with his Hand pin over his breast. His shirt underneath however is a dark grey color, with brocade instead of scales like his brother. Sansa would keep watching the family and committing their outfits to memory so she may attempt to mimic their designs later but the trumpets blare to announce the beginning of the first event.

“By the Seven look at those knights!” Arya yells over the crowd, watching as the first two knights ready in their positions.

The knights joust and the crowd reacts accordingly. They cheer when the knights’ horses gallop to their starting positions and when they grab their lances. They gasp when a knight falls off his horse and when a lance is turned into splinters. They scream for the victors and cry when a brave knight dies. Arya cheers the loudest for the Northern Houses like Harwin and Alyn of Winterfell while Gendry and Sansa cheer for Lord Renly even though he loses to Ser Sandor Clegane the Hound. Sansa screams her support for the handsome Lord Loras of House Tyrell while both Gendry and Arya shout their praises for the Hound, who is declared the victor of the joust. But the real drama comes when the Hound must declare the Queen of Love and Beauty. 

Sansa holds her breath. It’s all very dramatic in her eyes. Whether the scarred brute knows it or not, his actions will be compared to the last Queen of Love and Beauty. She looks over to her prince to see he is worriedly looking at the next move his knight will make. Jon’s hands hold tightly on his knees and his posture is tight as he watches the scene. Sansa knows she cannot bear to watch him panic so she watches Ser Clegane instead. The Hound is not married as far as Sansa knows but she is still eager to see who it is he would wish to court. He is not a handsome man, the Hound, for half his face is covered in slick black flesh with craters oozing blood and scars and the other half is an angry and cruel looking. Sansa fears for any woman forced to accept the crown of flowers. But her fear does not last long as tension breaks when he chooses a Queen. 

The crowd screams when he bestows the crown to a smallfolk woman, one with straw like hair, a large nose, large breasts, and freckles. The lady is bashful but accepts the crown with as much grace as a woman of her status can muster. Sansa can feel herself clapping her hands so hard she swears she will have to steal medicine to heal it tomorrow.  _ It is a ridiculous choice, _ Sansa thinks, _ to choose an ugly nobody but a safe choice.  _ Even Jon seems to agree as he also breaks into a smile and applauds Ser Clegane’s choice of woman. Sansa’s mind does wander to the future where the scarred knight and his ugly Queen of Love and Beauty will wed because no one will love them like each other. The gracious Queen Cersei will bless the ceremony and pay for the dress, a frock with the tourney embroidered across the sleeves to commemorate the day they fell in love. Sansa will embroider the gown herself because the smallfolk must stick together. Even though, as Sansa thinks on it more, the woman will no longer be part of the smallfolk. House Clegane is a minor house, but a house nonetheless. The nameless woman should be able to afford her own gown in this scenario, Sansa thinks. 

She tears herself away from her thoughts and focuses on the changing field in front of her. The lanes are being dissolved to make way for the archery tournament and Arya is practically vibrating next to Sansa.

“Archery is next!” The smaller girl says. “I can’t wait!” 

\---

The rest of the tourney is a blur, a fun blur but a blur nonetheless. Sansa finds herself tired from the excitement and would be ready to sleep if not for her rumbling stomach. The smell of the roast has made her mouth water the entire tourney and her stomach will not rest until it has some food in it. Luckily tourneys attract fat men with even fatter purses. As they pass the Lords’ tents she whispers her idea to Arya who quickly nods her head. 

“Lady Bird you’re a mad genius!” She tells her.

The two take off to the tents as Gendry yells at them. “Hey! Where are you lot going?” Gendry calls but his voice becomes smaller as the two head to the first tent. 

It’s a red color and no one is in it. Sansa sneaks in first as it was her idea with Arya on lookout. The two of them have done this before, not many times but enough to trust the other not to flee at the first sight of danger.

Sansa walks into the tent, elaborately decorated for a temporary stay. There is gold painted furniture and fur and red leather and most prominently a banner of the proud Lannister sigil. Sansa stares at it amazed- she has just entered the tent of the fattest purses in Westeros. Sansa would love to stay and run her hands over the soft fur and leather and sit down and pretend she is Cersei Lannister and roll in the money of the Lannisters but she knows she must be quick. It is suspicious that there are no knights watching for thieves so she must return before any knight can return from neglecting his duty. She learned from Gregorio, a fellow street urchin, that while knights can neglect their duties, they will be willing to kill any rat that proves they neglect their duties.

Sansa searches the room for where money may be hidden and finds it in a box beside the armor. It’s heavy but has no lock on it, proving Gregorio’s theory of the idle rich. She counts ten purses in all but she could be wrong for math was Arya’s strong suit, not hers. Sansa looks around to make sure no man could see her and silently but quickly takes one coin from each purse except for one where she takes two coins. She is careful not to take too many in case the person she is stealing from gets suspicious and kills someone in her place. She slips the money into the pocket she made for herself and slips out of the tent undetected. Arya walks with her, a cool mask over her features. The two walk away without preamble. Once they are in the clear, they run and laugh glad to be victorious. They find Gendry, in his same spot they left him, with his hands on his hips and a frown on his face. Arya tosses him a coin which he catches.

He looks down. “I forgive you.”

“Of course,” Arya laughs as she begins to skip towards a vendor. “Three chicken legs! And three loaves of bread too!”

“Please.” Sansa reminded her. Arya rolled her eyes but said, “Please!”

The tired vendor gave the three of them their own leg and smiled when Arya gave them a coin. She ate her leg with a wolfish grin while Sansa took a small bite of hers, savoring the meal. Gendry ate his in two bites. 

\---

The trio decided to watch the lanterns released into the sky. It was a new tradition introduced by the King and Sansa absolutely loved it. To see the night sky serve as the backdrop to the small pockets of light filled King’s Landing with a beauty it often lacked in Sansa’s eyes. One could never see the stars clearly in the city, in part due to the smog another part due to the danger lurking at night. 

Sansa sees a little girl with clothes more torn than hers. She hands her half of her bread and a coin for which Sansa is rewarded with a toothy smile. Sansa’s heart melts and returns the smile in kind. 

She sneaks into the tunnels, careful to avoid loose bricks and light. She walks around the darkness until she hears music and walks closer and closer until she can hear each individual word the musician sings. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She meets Brienne, a great and kind knight. Loras and Willas are right and proper men. She goes with Arya to see Gendry a boy 4 years older than Arya (13). The three go around the city enjoying the festivities. Sansa doesn’t notice how similar Gendry and Renly are because she only just met both of them and Gendry is usually covered in soot. Women in the medieval times could get apprenticeships but they were at risk of their masters’ sexual advances and the masters’ wives selling them into prostitution. It is also assumed that women at the age of 14 to 15 would have jobs at this point but since I don’t recall any smallfolk in GOT being employed at that age, I can play with the ages. 
> 
> Also I had this in my drafts for a while but did not bother editing before I hit publish, so please tell me if I made any mistakes.
> 
> Thank you for reading, hope you leave comments!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this. Please give it a comment because no matter how short, I still treasure it. If you don't like the fic, don't leave a comment and read the fics it's based on because I promise it's much better.


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